


Sheepish

by komu



Series: Sheepish [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Schmoop, alternative universe, animal!fic, in which most are sheep and one is a wolf, sheepish, wolf/sheep au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 16:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/komu/pseuds/komu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheep and wolves were never meant to interact, but Kurt and Blaine obviously never got that memo. Aka the fic where Kurt is a sheep and Blaine is a wolf and they get along fabulously and Burt is just confused. Surprisingly enough not a crack!fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visual of Kurt can be found [here](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m8uwc564f71qj295io1_500.jpg) and Blaine [here](http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5346/6997048366_d30f25fc3e_o.jpg).

 

Kurt wasn’t quite like the other sheep in his herd. He knew it, the herd knew it, even the chickens on the farm knew it.   
  
The other rams and ewes were varying shades of gray and brown, all with short, curly wool. Kurt was white and brown, and even if his wool had been the same colour as theirs, the texture was different. His horns were different too, not quite as straight and not as tall.   
  
It didn’t help that while he enjoyed the company of some of the ewes; especially Mercedes, Tina and Brittany, he certainly didn’t want to  _mate_ with them like the other rams. It didn’t really help that he’d kind of kept trailing after Finn during the last mating season, either.

 

He was different.

His human -  _their_ human, really, but Kurt was the one who spent most time with him, Santana didn’t even go  _near_ him - said he was special. That his mum had been special.   
  
But she was long gone, so Kurt was alone. He had the herd, sure, but they never really knew what to make of him. Some of the rams, especially Puck and Finn, kept running into his sides and knocking him down, bullying and pushing.   
  
So most of the time Kurt kept by himself. Every morning his human - Burt - would take them down the trail to their field, and come back for them when it started getting dark. During this time the rest of the herd played, fought, grazed and rested, usually in the middle of the plain. Kurt preferred to stay under a large tree on a little hill, where the shade was comforting and the leaves tasty.  
  
This was exactly where he was today, trying to get to a lump of leaves  _right_  out of his reach.  
  
The wind was against him, and that combined with his frustration allowed the intruder to creep up behind him.  
  
“Hi.”  
  
He gave an undignified and startled snort, whirling around and freezing in fear. On the ground, only a short bit away, was a wolf. A large, gray and absolutely terrifying wolf that was going to  _eat_  him oh my _god_ —  
  
He ran, ignoring the yip of “No, wait!” (Yeah, right, like  _that_ was going to happen), until he crashed right into Tina, toppling her over.  
  
For some reason, he didn’t tell the herd about the intrusion.  
  
And if no one noticed that maybe he walked a little closer to Burt than usual on the way home, then that was fine.  
  
—-  
  
To his credit, he really did try to keep close to the rest of the herd the next day. And he did, until Puck started pushing at him as usual.  
  
Tired of the abuse, Kurt strayed to his usual spot, keeping alert and ready to run.   
  
The wolf still managed to sneak up on him.  
  
“Please don’t run again.”  
  
He jerked around, and  _of course_  the wolf was right there, but this time flat on the ground, ears down and eyes big. He didn’t look… all that intimidating, actually.   
  
“Hi. ‘m not gonna hurt you. Promise.” His gray tail wagged slightly.   
  
Against his better judgement, Kurt stayed. He was kind of backed up against the tree anyway.  
  
“W-Why are you—” He gave a little snort and the wolf’s ears dropped impossibly further. “You can’t promise not to hurt me when you want to  _eat_  me, that doesn’t even make any sense!” He tried lowering his head to show off his horns, but if it actually came to a fight he knew he had no chance of winning. He was going to get eaten, he knew it. Well, fine. Nobody would miss him anyway. Except for Burt. And maybe Burt’s wife. Oh god.   
  
“I don’t want to eat you!”   
  
That made him stop short. “…No?”  
  
“No! I just want to talk to you. You’re always on your own over here and—”  
  
Kurt interrupted the wolf with an indignant bleat. “Are you stalking me!?”  
  
The wolf looked alarmed. Sheepish, and well, if that wasn’t irony then he didn’t know what was. “No!” It whined. “I’ve just seen you here and you always look so lonely and I’m lonely, and you don’t fight like the other rams so you seem nice and I thought that maybe we could be friends?” Another soft whine, almost like a question, and Kurt felt surprisingly captivated by the sincere, warm eyes looking back at him.  
  
But friends with a  _wolf_?   
  
He felt oddly touched, though. And he was lonely, he’d give the wolf that. The herd never seemed to notice, but this complete and utter stranger had. Perhaps the wolf wasn’t so horrible, if he could what they couldn’t.  
  
Kurt was startled out of his thoughts by a soft, quiet sentence. “My name’s Blaine.”   
  
Blaine. “I’m… Kurt.” And oh  _crap_ , wasn’t this how friendships usually started?   
  
“Kurt!” Flustered, Kurt snapped up a patch of clover to chew on. Blaine was practically vibrating, tail wagging happily.  
  
God, he was so screwed.


	2. Mates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visual of Kurt and Blaine can be found in chapter one. To clarify, rams make rumbling noises at potential mates during mating season, as a way of courting.

It didn’t take long for Kurt to become comfortable around Blaine, even though he easily got flustered by him.  
  
It helped that Blaine was kind of really, really sweet. Also energetic, but gentle at the same time. He reminded Kurt of the puppy that visited Burt along with a pair of humans last year. It had bounded around Burt’s feet and chewed on Kurt’s horns until they left.  
  
Come to think of it, Blaine did  _that_  as well.  
  
Most mornings Blaine would be waiting on his hill - their hill, now - and would greet him with happy yips and sloppy kisses that still unnerved him a little. This was such a morning.  
  
“Kurt!”  
  
“Hi, Blaine.” Kurt nosed lightly at Blaine’s muzzle, and then bent to graze.  
  
Their peace, however, was disturbed by a frightened, shrill bleat of “Wolf!”  
  
Oh god, Rachel. Of all the ewes to first see Blaine of course it had to be  _Rachel_. Kurt’s life could not get any worse.  
  
Yet watching the rest of the herd fall into a state of panic, bleating and bumping around in their haste to get away from them, he suddenly felt it could.  
  
It took hours to calm them all down, to explain that he wasn’t  _that_  kind of wolf, to stand up against Sam and Finn who tried to charge at a frightened Blaine.  
  
It took hours, but eventually things were quiet and Kurt was allowed to return to the hill with Blaine, for some well-deserved rest.  
  
Napping with Blaine was another thing Kurt found himself quickly enjoying. Blaine would curl up against him, often pushing his snout up against Kurt’s neck and wiggling his body in closer, tail always thumping softly at the ground. And after all that commotion, that was exactly what Kurt needed.  
  
——-  
A moment of Blaine;  
  
 _He’s so wonderful._  
——-  
  
The herd stayed wary of Blaine until the day he found and returned a lost Brittany to the group, much to Santana’s apparent relief. After that, even the rams seemed okay with him. Even  _Rachel,_  who  _hated_  change that she wasn’t in charge of, liked him.  
  
In some ways, the herd seemed to accept Blaine more than Kurt.  _Why_  Kurt resolutely refused to think about.  
  
Blaine’s quick acceptance into the herd was something Kurt tried to ignore, since it filled him with hurt and more than enough guilt. Blaine wasn’t just his, he was allowed to have other friends as well.  
  
It kind of helped that after every time Blaine played with the rams or chatted with the ewes, he always came back to him. Kurt might not be Blaine’s only friend, but it was pretty obvious that he was his favourite.  
  
And then, of course, came mating season.  
  
Kurt hated mating season.  
  
Everyone would pair up; Finn and Rachel, Puck and Quinn, Sam and Mercedes, Tina and Mike, Santana and Brittany, and Kurt would be left even more lonely than usual. Even Artie had Sugar. He had no one. He didn’t even  _want_  any of the ewes, but that didn’t mean he felt any less left out.  
  
He was, of course, sulking accordingly when Blaine found him. “Kurt? Why are you suddenly so upset? Did Puck do something again?”  
  
“No.” He blinked, and bleated in complaint. “Who says I’m upset, anyway?”  
  
“I do. So why?” Blaine curled up beside him, resting his head against Kurt’s neck.  
  
“Fine. All the others are pairing up and it’s unfair and I don’t have a mate, okay?” It all came out in one sharp burst, bitter and embarrassed, and Blaine just blinked at him for a few moments.  
  
And Kurt felt silly. God, he felt so silly. No, not silly, stupid. He’d felt  _silly_  the other day, when he’d accidentally rumbled at Blaine. _Rumbled_. He just couldn’t help that Blaine was unfairly attractive with his stupid grey fur and  _stupid_  amber eyes.   
  
“Kurt.” A wolf should not be allowed to sound so patronizing. “ _I’m_  your mate.” Blaine lifted and tilted his head, meeting Kurt’s startled stare. “We  _are_  mates, right?” Blaine licked at his snout. “I wanna be your mate.”  
  
Oh.  
  
Well.  
  
“Okay.” And damn it if his stomach didn’t flutter like he’d eaten a swarm of butterflies.  
  
“Good. Now, can we nap? You’re always so soft to nap on.”  
  
Kurt was so, so screwed. But at least he wasn’t lonely.


	3. Routines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, rumbling noises are made by rams (and ewes) as a way of courting and interacting with their mates.

Burt was a simple man. He had his house, his wife and his sheep. He was happy with this.  
  
Every day he’d take the herd out to the fields, paying special attention to Kurt. Kurt had always been a favourite of his, ever since he’d been a lamb. He was social, and always enjoyed a pat or two.  
  
He’d then return home, kiss his wife good morning and go about his day.  
  
In the evening, he’d trek down to the fields again to get the sheep home for the night, the barn already stocked with feed and water.  
  
It was routine, and it was a good routine. Simple, pleasant.  
  
But this routine was broken one evening, when Kurt wasn’t waiting for him like he usually did. Burt didn’t find  _this_  in itself too alarming.  
  
He was a simple man, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that Kurt didn’t really get along with the rest of the herd, and he knew exactly where he preferred to spend his days instead. That old tree had been Kurt’s mother’s favourite tree as well. She’d been a gift to him, a dainty but regal Awassi sheep, and Kurt had obviously taken after her in both his looks and social habits.  
  
What did alarm Burt that evening, however, was the large gray form curled up by Kurt’s side underneath the tree.  
  
It almost looked like… a wolf. It woke and ran off before he had a chance to do anything, and Burt had never been so relieved to hear Kurt’s reproachful, indignant bleating before.  
  
He convinced himself that what he’d seen was just a wayward dog from the village.  
  
It wasn’t, of course.  
  
The next week he got glimpses of the wolf - because that was what it was, for sure - and whenever he did, it was right next to Kurt.  
  
The other sheep didn’t seem to be wary of it either, but even that didn’t stop him from worrying. If there was a wolf in the vicinity, why  _hadn’t_  it taken one of the sheep yet? Why not Kurt, since it had obviously gotten him alone, separated from the group?  
  
He told his wife, Carole, and she was just as confused and worried as he.  
  
Against his better judgement, he let it be. It didn’t seem to be interested in harming anything, and a part of him was curious. Kurt  _had_  seemed more keen on going to the fields, lately. Some days in the past the ram would simply sit down on his behind and refuse to go with the rest of the herd, staying on the farm with him and Carole. That hadn’t happened in over a month now.  
  
Well, not voluntarily, at least.  
  
It had started as any other day, and during most of it nothing out of the ordinary happened. Burt had simply noted that Kurt seemed more tired than usual when he brought the herd back home, and it wasn’t until he went to check on them later in the evening that he realized that something was wrong.  
  
When he came into the barn some of the ewes seemed a bit restless, but what caught his attention was Kurt, who would usually greet him at the door, lying on his side, listlessly.  
  
“Carole, call the vet!” Not waiting for a reply from his wife, he made his way over. He wasn’t exactly well-versed in this stuff, but it was obvious that something wasn’t right. This wasn’t normal for the ram. Kurt murmured miserably at him, head remaining on the ground.  
  
“Oh buddy, what have you gone and gotten yourself into now?” He crouched, gently petting behind Kurt’s ear. If only the vet would hurry up and get there.  
  
Eventually, he did.  
  
“Looks like he ate something he wasn’t supposed to. It’s not lethal, though. I’m giving him some meds, but you should keep him on a liquid diet for a couple o’ days, and keep an eye on him.” Jim, the vet, clapped Burt’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine in a few days.” With that, he stood and made his way back to his truck.  
  
“He’s coming back inside with us.” Carole’s voice startled him out of his stupor, and his shifting caused Kurt to snort softly.  
  
Well, Kurt in the house wasn’t such an uncommon sight - it had happened often enough when he was a lamb and the habit kind of stuck, though the last few years Kurt usually kept to the porch.  
  
“Right. Up you get, bud.” It took Burt and Carole’s combined effort to get Kurt into the house, but eventually he was resting on a large felt in their livingroom, Carole fussing over him until Burt made her go to bed.  
  
After his wife had gone upstairs for the night, Burt looked at the now sleeping sheep and sighed, running a hand over his head. Kurt meant the world to him, and seeing him sick was just painful. He and Carole had never had any human children, but to him, to  _them_ , Kurt was basically it.  
  
Taking the herd to the fields the next day was stranger than usual. The herd went as always, but it felt weird leaving Kurt at home - not because he didn’t  _want_  to go, but because he  _couldn’t_. The ram still wasn’t standing up, but the vet had assured them that was normal. If he wasn’t up in the next few days they could start to worry.  
  
He pushed through his routines, only checking up on Kurt occasionally since he knew he was in good hands with Carole inside. Only after he’d gotten the sheep safely into the barn did he go sit with him. (Not counting the few hours during lunch, but that was lunch. Burt was allowed to picnic in the living room if he wanted to.)  
  
Carole joined him in the sitting area after dinner, so Burt didn’t move from his position on the floor next to Kurt until much later, when a scratching sound coming from the door roused him into standing.  
  
Carole heard it as well. “What on earth is that?”  
  
“Dunno.”  
  
She gave him a pointed look over her knitting, and he huffed out a laugh. “Fine, I’m going.” He stretched, groaning at the stiffness in his legs, before going into the hallway. The scratching sounded again, and Burt frowned. It sounded like… but that was impossible. There was no way that a wolf had…  
  
But going by the mass of grey fur bounding past him into the living room when he opened the door, it had.  
  
At Carole’s shriek, he slammed the door and followed it, snatching up his shotgun from the shelf over the coatrack as he went.  
  
Carole was behind the sofa, knitting abandoned, staring in horror at the new arrival.  
  
Burt would have cocked the gun, should have, but the scene unfolding in front of his eyes kept him from it.  
  
The wolf had all but bounded up to Kurt - who lifted his head from the felt and bleated weakly - whining and licking at the ram’s head; tail and ears kept low. Burt watched in amazement as Kurt licked feebly at the thing’s nose, and kept watching as the wolf ducked down and nestled up close, joining Kurt and putting its’ head on his neck.  
  
Burt put the gun down on a side table as Kurt laid his head down against the wolf’s side, rumbling -  _rumbling_ , christ - softly.  
  
“Good lord.” Carole still looked frightened, and Burt felt wary, of course, there was a  _wolf_  in their home, but with the way Kurt had greeted it…  
  
The wolf looked at him warily from where it lay, head not moving an inch from it’s place on top of Kurt. It didn’t growl, just looked.  
  
“Christ.” He ran a hand over his head - he seemed to be doing that a lot lately - and took a few steps further into the room. When the wolf remained where it was, he sighed and looked at his wife.  
  
Who was watching the unlikely duo with a startled, but soft expression. “Well, I’ll be damned.” She whispered. “You really weren’t lying.” At his affronted expression, she smiled and shook her head. “Don’t give me that look, it sounds impossible, a gentle wolf.”  
  
He had to admit, it kind of did.  
  
Carole went back to her seat on the couch, keeping an eye on the wolf as she did. But it stayed beside Kurt, eyes now half-closed, seemingly content right where it was. A thought struck him. “I can’t believe it came here, though. Must have followed when I got the herd back to the barn.”  
  
He sighed again and joined her on the couch, no longer worried about any sudden moves from the wolf.  
  
“He must have worried when Kurt wasn’t with the herd today.” Carole’s voice was soft, no trace of fear left. He nodded.  
  
“Probably.” He gave a little shake of his head, smiling. “If he cares enough to come up to our door for him, I reckon he’s a pretty good friend for Kurt.”  
  
Carole laughed, and the wolf’s head turned to her for a second, before returning to Kurt, licking at his nose and whining softly. “Going by  _that_  and that rumble earlier, I’d say he’s a bit more than a friend.”  
  
As on cue, Kurt let out another low rumble, nose nudging at his companion’s muzzle before nuzzling into his neck.  
  
There was a moment of stillness, before Burt groaned. “Why do I suddenly feel like an overprotective dad, wanting to lock his kid up to avoid  _this_.” Carole just laughed and patted his arm.  
  
“That’s because you basically  _are_  an overprotective dad, sweetie.” She smiled at him. “And in that sense, your kid just got his first boyfriend.”  
  
Burt only groaned again in response.  
  
Eventually, Carole went back to her knitting and Burt settled down with a paper, casting glances at the pair on the felt every so often.  
  
He was suddenly startled out of his reading by a loud, jarring noise, which, well, could only be defined as passing gas, closely followed by a startled little yelp from the wolf and a long, highly affronted bleat from Kurt.  
  
“Oh Kurt.” Carole promptly laughed, and Burt was quick to follow once he saw the sullen, almost embarrassed expression on the ram’s face, as well as the wolf’s startled, curious one.  
  
Kurt was going to be just fine, and then hopefully he’d stop with the glares and the put out bleats.


	4. White

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visual of Alice [here](http://1080hdwallpaper.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/cute-lamb-hd-wallpaper-1080.jpg)

Being sick was  _humiliating_ , but at least it passed quickly.  
  
And at least he had Blaine by his side. Kurt had honestly been a bit worried that night when Blaine barged into his humans’ house, he’d seen Burt’s metal pipe that smelled of danger, but in the end nothing had happened.  
  
In fact, Kurt was kind of pleasantly surprised to see that Burt and Carole both seemed to like Blaine.  _Seemed_ , Kurt thought, was the key word there.  
  
He was currently kicking at the closed barn door, Blaine barking right outside of it. He was just about to aim another kick at it when it swung open, and for a moment Kurt actually thought about kicking Burt instead.  
  
Then Blaine was inside and licking at his face, and he was preoccupied.  
  
“Christ.” Kurt looked up at his human, levelling him with a sharp glare. “Fine, I’m sorry, buddy. He can stay in here, all right?”  
  
Burt could consider himself very lucky that Kurt didn’t bite him when he patted his head, but then at least the door was closing with Blaine safely inside of it, and Kurt could feel himself calming down.  
  
Blaine being, well, Blaine, helped. “It’s fine Kurt, he let us back together, see?”  
  
“Well, he shouldn’t have tried to keep us apart in the first place.” Kurt snorted, stomping a hoof into the ground stubbornly.  
  
At that, Blaine’s expression changed, and Kurt suddenly felt protective of him. More than usual, that was. “I thought he liked me, though.”  
  
God, it was way too late for this. Stupid Burt. “He does, I’m sure. I mean, he and Carole feed you now and they let you stay with me in the house. I don’t know why he wanted you out of the barn. I’m sure it won’t happen again.”  
  
Blaine simply moved up close, licking gratefully at the side of his face.  
  
It didn’t actually happen again, and Kurt felt sure that the warning stomp he’d given Burt’s foot the next day helped.  
  
By the time lamb season came, both Burt and Carole treated Blaine the same way they treated Kurt, to his relief.  
  
“Kurt!”  
  
He sighed softly, content and loose, feeling happy about the way Blaine’s wet little kisses woke him from his nap. “Mmm?”  
  
“You’re hogging the sunlight.” It was such a simple thing, such a  _Blaine_  thing, that Kurt couldn’t help the amused noise that escaped him. And god, Blaine looked adorable when he got all offended.  
  
Nevertheless, Kurt shifted on the porch, allowing Blaine to fit comfortably beside him.  
  
The rest of the herd always thought he was crazy when he favoured the human areas of the farm over the barn, but there was something so peaceful about napping on the area right by the kitchen door.  
  
The next time Kurt woke up it wasn’t because of Blaine, but rather because of the smell and the noises coming from the stairs to the porch. Opening his eyes, he found Carole and Burt sitting there, Carole holding a lamb in her lap and feeding it with a bottle.  
  
He felt a pang of sympathy for it. He knew what that meant, whoever it should belong to didn’t want it, or couldn’t take it. It didn’t smell like their herd, which was weird, but a lamb was a lamb and being fed with a bottle meant it didn’t have a mother. His heart felt heavy for it.  
  
“…Burt. I tried with Santana, Brittany, Mercedes, none of them will take her.”  
  
He watched Burt run a hand over his face. He looked sad, too. “Looks like it’s the bottle for her, then. We can’t give her back to Fred, he doesn’t have the time to raise her.”  
  
“Well, I don’t mind. I just hoped one of the dams would take her on, it’ll be hard for her without someone to care for her.”  
  
Blaine suddenly shifted and moved - no,  _why,_  - and Kurt watched as he padded up to their humans and the newcomer, tentatively reaching out to nose at her, and it was almost painful with how warm Kurt grew when the baby bleated shrilly, pushing it’s face up against Blaine’s muzzle.  
  
He felt Carole watching him, and suddenly the lamb was set down right in front of his face, Blaine following closely behind.  
  
Kurt just blinked at her, startled. He looked back down at the lamb when he felt the first press of its body agaist his chest. “Mummy?”  
  
Oh  _god_  his heart. Blaine looked just as broken by the timid question as he felt, though. “Not mummy, sweetheart.” He lowered his head to nose at her face, and oh, she was beautiful.  
  
“Family?” He looked up at Blaine, who was simply staring at them with a soft expression, head tilted.  
  
That did it. “Yes, family.”  
  
Satisfied, the lamb laid down between his legs, and Blaine was quick to curl around them both. She smelled like an Alice. She smelled like  _theirs_.  
  
“I don’t think we need to worry about finding a parent for her. She’s already got two.” Burt surprisingly soft voice caught his attention. Kurt didn’t bother with raising his head, busy licking behind a soft, white little ear, caught up in the entirely too large feeling of  _family_.


End file.
